Rotting Secrets
by Hikikomori
Summary: Bakura has a dark secret hidden under his bed. YamiMarik is about to find out what it is... WARNING: Contains Necrophilia and mentions of SelfHarm, Cutting.


"Wait... What's that smell?"

"What smell?"

"That... sort of putrid scent. Almost as of something you can taste. Like salt, on the tip of your tongue, really bitter and chocking to the body. Damn it, what IS that?"

He let his trustworthy nose guide him too a closed door. He tried the doorknob, although it felt sticky.  
"What the..." He examined the palm of his hand, a sort of greasy liquid coated it. It wasn't from his own sweat, he could tell. It was something else that he couldn't quite identify.

"Bakura, what the hell's in here?"

"Oh. That's just my own room. It's far to nasty, filthy and smelly. Whatever. Can barely walk around 'cause of all the dirty laundry."

"You're kidding me, right?" The tall Egyptian growled, wiping of his greasy hand on his jeans.  
"...YamiMarik. My kind of humour, jokes aren't like that. You know that. Why would you want to go into my room to start with?"  
"Well, I got kind of curious 'cause of the smell that came from it. I just want to peek."

"Can't you do that later? I'm dead hungry." Bakura looked even more pale then he used to, but gestured too his stomach.  
"Your rising paleness is a cause for concern, so no fucking way."

"Always so Ra damn stubborn..." Clearing his throat, Bakura looked, anxiously towards the door.  
"C'Mon, open it. Just going to take a quick look inside and then I'll be happy and satisfied."

A light clicking noise went ringing through the small apartment as he unlocked the door.  
Heart throbbing in his throat, he shoved his friend inside, making it clear that all it contained was old clothes in different piles of different size and smell.  
YamiMariks nostrils then wrinkled, he made a disgusted face as he examined one of the shirts.  
"Do you even know how to use a laundry... err... washing machine?"  
"Oh, yeah, 'course I do."

"Still... How about taking all this to a dry cleaner?"  
"Can't afford it. Now, are you satisfied with having to witness my horrible dirty floors?"  
"Hmm... Maybe. But the scent isn't entirely coming from these clothes. It can't be."  
The Egyptian sniffed around some more, while the Albino's eyes shone with anxiety.  
"Tell you what... I'll help you clean all this up, a'right? I won't ask for any money, it's just that this scent is bugging the eyes out of my skull. You can't live like this, man. I'm here for you, you know that."  
Bakura opened his mouth to say something, but he just gulped and looked down onto a patch of the wooden floor that actually could be seen.  
"Hey, Bakura, what the hell... What's wrong with you?"  
"Nothing. It's just... Well, you won't be my friend after and if you manage to clean this up."  
"And why is that?"  
"Ever smelled this kind of scent before?"

YamiMarik blinked, scratching his chin.  
"Not really. Very unusual, haven't encountered anything like it until now."

"Then what do you think it is?"  
Bakura asked, then swallowed, eyeing the room in a nervous fashion.  
"... Is there something in here you haven't told me about...?"  
"You can't imagine."

YamiMarik grew suspicious, and sniffed around some more.  
And then his eyes caught the sight of something grayish, sticking out under the bed.  
"What the f-" He crawled towards it, the scent getting even more intense as he got closer.

Bakura staggered on his feet, as if trying to escape. But where could he run...?  
"Please fucking tell me it's something normal...ish." The dark-tan boy whispered to himself, over and over again.

He looked away as his fingers curled around something cold, soft and moist. And bony.  
"...The hell...?" He carefully pulled.  
"Be careful with him."  
Bakura said, cradling himself.

Out he dragged the dead body of a boy, about his own age, maybe even younger.

His blank eye stared at him, some unpleasant-looking liquid slowly dripping from it.  
The other eye had been torn out, the eye socket all shiny.  
His mouth was gaping, nearly open so big his jaw looked dislocated.  
He had hand-shaped bruises around his neck, probably the cause of his death.  
The half of his upper body, also covered in bruises. Some stab wounds could be seen, the blood clearly visible against the greyish coloured skin.  
The lower part of his body were mutilated, the muscle and fat peeking through one of his thighs. Blood trickled from around his opening, some of it quite fresh, otherwise dried up.

Covering his mouth, YamiMarik tried to resist the impulse to throw up.  
"Are you fucking out of your mind? What is this?! You're keeping a corpse under your bed, and you assume no one will notice?!" He screamed, almost spit in the face of his friend.  
"Uh... Yes."  
"Y-You... How long has he been dead then?" His breathing was harsh, and he tried to calm himself by simply throwing some clothes over the decaying, rotting boy.  
"About two days now, I think."

"What the fuck happened? Was it an accident?"  
"Yes and no."  
"Yes OR no?"  
"... Both. I'd planed to just give him a kiss, to let him know I thought he was a real cutie. So, you know how I do it when I'm approaching someone with that thought in mind."  
"Kind of. You drag your fingertips on the side of the persons neck. But what has that got to do with a boy laying dead in your room?!" The frustration dripped through YamiMarik's voice.

"I can't remember exactly what happened, but suddenly I had forced him down onto the bed. He seemed to like it, he had a boner as hard as metal. Hah. I get all hot and bothered thinking about it again..." He cleared his throat, continuing.  
"I kissed him again. I wanted to get even closer to that steaming body of his. I pulled him by the collar, he coughed a bit. But licked his lips. Such a weird boy he is... Was."

A slight pause as the Albino fell deep in thought for a while.

"Apparently, I were slightly strangling him. Apparently, he liked it. A lot. He bucked his hips and bit my lip..." He pointed at the scab.  
"Damn, he drove me insane. I dragged the clothes of him and pushed myself inside. He were bleeding, screaming. A true masochist."

"Well, that seems like someone in your taste... So, you fucked him to death?" YamiMarik shivered.  
"It turned me on so bad when he placed my hands around his own neck, indicating that he actually wanted to have his breathing restricted."  
"Well, it's not as uncommon as you'd think. Sex while being strangled and when he or she enjoys it..." YamiMarik continued throwing even more clothes over the body.  
"I know that moron..."  
"Then what happened? You just didn't know your own strength?"

"I was being careful. But I think I got so lost in my orgasm that I pressed a little bit too hard. Although I could've just pulled away, but the sounds he were making... Oh. Shit, that was such a turn-on. I shifted between pressing softer, harder, then reverse. To see how he would react. Once, he even came when I repeated that routine. I've never been that hard in my entire life, damn it. And then... That fear and anxiety in his eyes as he knew I wouldn't hesitate to kill him. The power I had over him in that exact moment as I pressed with my hands and fingers, just the right amount of pressure... So beautiful. One more pressing motion, one more thrust inside of him and I felt him twitch then go all limb on me. I kissed him and sucked on his lips, and came again. Buckets, I swear."  
Bakura's cheeks were tinged pink, and his breathing had increased, almost magically.

"That's.... That's some sick story..."  
YamiMarik and Bakura had sat themselves in the living-room, the scent of a decaying body getting too much for the Egyptian who had only encountered death when far away living relatives had died.  
"... I saw some bruises on his body. And Ra damn it, an empty eye socket... You must have done more too him... After he were dead..."  
"I'd figured, why not, might as well have some fun before I dispose of him. Ever heard of love-holes?"  
"... When you carve a hole into someone's body and use that too pleasure your own precious dick with? You're a sick fuck, Bakura. Although, I guess I already knew that."  
Bakura laughed, a high vibrating sound, radiating a kind of victory-ish sensation or feeling.

"You can't believe how good it feels to eye-fuck someone. I've read about it and saw it in drawn pictures, but damn it, never imagined it being that wonderful."  
"You cut him up too? I mean, fuck... Large pieces of his thighs removed."  
"It's nize too feel the texture of the fat tissue when you spread his legs apart too fuck him so hard until you hear the ligaments in his legs almost tearing."  
"Okeeeeeey... Well, I'll never know how that feels, will I. I'm not planning on finding out either. Gheez."

YamiMarik shook his head, the hairs on his arms standing up.  
"Suit yourself. I'll reckon he'll start to leak a lot more then he does now, in about one day or maybe two... And stink, for that matter. That'll attract attention from the police or some random neighbours, which I don't want."  
"No shit. You figure you'd be at risk of getting into trouble? What makes you think that, eh?"  
"Don't play the "sarcasm-card" on me. After I'm done with him, will you help me getting rid of his remains?"  
"You're acting as if you have respect for him. That's exactly what you haven't got."  
"He's dead. What's he going to say about me having sex with his corpse?"  
"His relatives, maybe?"  
"Troubled kid, abusive parents. Rapist for a dad and an alcoholic mother. Tough home-life he had... Horrible, I feel sad for him. It seemed as if they didn't want anything to do with him. At least that was what he told me. If it's true or not... I'll never know, now will I?"

"Aren't you the least bit guilty then?"  
"Guilty? Fuck no. The hours I've spent shoving my dick in and out of every possible hole in his body have been the most sexually intense hours in my entire life so far. I've lost count on how many times I've come." Bakura sighed, a dreamy look on his face.  
"How do you plan on disposing the bo... him then?"  
"Bathtub. Special cover-sheet thing to place him in. Then cut him into tiny little pieces, throwing him into garbage-bags and then throw them in a bucket that's very resistant, pour some acid all over him and then POFF, it would have been as if he'd never existed."  
The pale teenager looked confident and his eyes almost sparkled, all with a joyful hint.  
"Wow, you've really thought this through, haven't you?"

Six months later YamiMarik discovered Bakura strangling another boy in the living room.  
"Fuck no, you're not doing this again!" He dragged the shaking boy in safety, his neck already bruised and a wound in his side, although very shallow, so the threat to his life weren't noticeable.  
"Am I forced too keep constant watch on you for having a desire to fuck corpses all the time?!"  
"...Fuck of. He won't care any more once he's stiff all over."  
"You're begging for a beating... Oh, damn, I forgot. You like that kind of shit."  
Clearly pissed of, YamiMarik tried to control his urge to punch his necrophiliac of a friend in the face.  
Bakura just laughed. As always in these kinds of situation.

The poor boy though, had hid himself in the bathroom, the click of a key being turned in a lock.  
"If I fuck you so hard that you'll bleed, will you be remotely satisfied then? A bit, maybe? I'm sick of constantly worrying about the police turning up at our doorstep, asking about random boys that were reported missing."  
"You worry about... me?"  
"Yeah. Believe it or not, I do. So, what is it that's going to make you less inclined to go on a frenzy, murdering boys you find beautiful and having sex with their corpses?"  
"... I don't know why I have these urges... I just do, 'kay?"  
"Well, they're certainly not very healthy... You're even more broken now then you were a few years ago."

"I can never be fixed." Hurt, Bakura bit his lip, a sad expression covering his features.  
"Yes, you can."  
"When I'm truly satisfied is when I can join them in that moment, right before and after death. I have the control and I can let out all my anger and frustration. The human life is so fragile... So am I, but not at those particular moments... And how hot... So Ra damn hard I become... Dripping, sweating, I don't care how I look... Saliva flowing and all other bodily fluids, both from myself and the corpse I'm fucking... I drag my fingers over his body, I pull bits of skin of with my nails, it's so easy, far to easy. I take the razorblades I use to cut myself with and use them on him instead. I cut deep down, into the bone, examine how a human looks for real. He has no choice but to expose his entire being too me, and that feeling alone makes me feel... fulfilled. Fat tissue is extremely fascinating, it's bump and creases, the distinct yellow colour of it, before being smeared in blood. I see all the different textures and tissues, nerv-ends and arteries. A million times better then dissecting frogs in biology class."

He tried catching his breath, suddenly his hand in his pocket, clinging onto a tiny plastic box with a razor blade inside it. Anxiety-filled, with large pupils, he locked eyes with his friend, strands of Bakura's long white hair clinging too his cheeks, slick from cold-sweat.  
"I just... I have no real, good, healthy tools too deal with my anxiety, stress and outside pressure put on me... I can't take it, can't deal with it at all. Unless I hurt myself or someone else, in some way, any way possible. I just can't stand the darkness eating me alive, from the inside. Fucks me up so bad... Which you may have notice."  
"I'll help you with some good tools... 'Kay? I'm no shrink, but I'm a friend, and at times, that's the best kind of shrink you can talk too. Aren't I right?" YamiMarik slowly took away Bakura's razor blade, and softly kissed his forehead.  
"It's me and you against them all..." Bakura whispered, crying without any sound at all. Well, in theory he didn't have to actually produce tears, his wounds and scars acted out that roll instead.

"Will I ever be able to be... fixed?" Bakura thought and repeated in his mind over, and over again, as if he were psychotic until he fell asleep in YamiMariks arms, completely drained.  
The boy who had hid in the bathroom got home safe but Bakura still, today, have these violent urges, crawling in the back of his mind...

* * *

I planed to write this fic in several chapters and so on... But I think this one summed it all up, how I want to explore hidden urges, how and why and such...

I've had a hard time for a couple of weeks now, school and shit. Discovered the dark side of myself when I played around with my own blood and giggled like a fucking schoolgirl... Damn, after that night I've felt quite content with shit. But as always, things go up and down... More down for me then, hah.

I've always had a fascination with death, maybe simply because I'm afraid of it.  
Blood and cutting is nothing new, as we all know I have a 4 year history with self-harming. I can manage to be away from it for a while, but suddenly, if things crash or get too much for me to handle...

Well, I always resort to something self-destructive. It's a part of me that's extremely hard too shake of. But I'm trying, 'cause yeah, I realise I can't go around all cut up and bleeding all the time. That's no life. Although I feel secure in it, it doesn't have to mean it's a good life.

Hope you enjoyed this story though, you're more then welcome too comment and ask anything, if you have any questions concerning either this fic or me and my life. Love you guys, my dear fans... **_Thank you for your continued support!_**


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